


Book of Love Poetry

by starghost



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: First War with Voldemort, M/M, Marauders' Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-30
Updated: 2016-01-30
Packaged: 2018-05-17 05:50:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5856601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starghost/pseuds/starghost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Originally posted to LJ circa 2005. Inspired by A Softer World comic:</p><p>when the moon is full<br/>I turn into a werewolf<br/>and I eat people</p><p>I grow fangs and claws,<br/>and an appetite for flesh.</p><p>I am writing a book<br/>of love poetry.<br/>--a softer world, 11 july 2003</p>
            </blockquote>





	Book of Love Poetry

"What are you," Sirius says, pausing to lick ice cream from the curve of his spoon, "going to resolve to accomplish by this day next year?"

Remus runs his thumb across his lip, wiping away a drop of chocolate sauce. "You first," he says.

Sirius tips his bowl to his lips, drinking the milky soup left by the heat of July. He puts the bowl down, uses the back of his hand to clean his mouth.  
  
"I will," he says. "I will."  
  
"You've had an entire bowl of ice cream to think."

Sirius squirms in the grass and squints up at the clouds.

"And we do this every year."  
  
"I will..." he says again slowly, scraping his spoon against the bowl.

Remus puts his aside and stretches out on the grass, ignoring the loose shingles on their roof and the creeper vine taking over the fence. "I'm going to make something." He says it firmly, jarring Sirius out of his reverie. Remus smoothes the grass under his hands and hears the clink of Sirius stacking their bowls together.  
  
"What?" Sirius asks, looking down at him.  
  
"I can't tell you. I don't know what I'm making," he says. The clouds flirt with the rays of sunlight, and when Remus blinks, the light plays behind his eyes.  
  
"Just something?" Sirius is more shadowed than he should be, his face unable to compete with the brightness of the sun.

Remus blinks again and again until he can see Sirius's eyes. "Something true."

Sirius nods.  
  
*  
  
Remus begins collecting things that evening, gathering strange papers and boxes.  
  
"What are you making?" Sirius asks, Remus stopping to lean against the doorframe and look at him, huffing stray hairs out of his eyes.  
  
"I don't know yet." Remus barely catches a falling box from the stack in the crook of his arm and holds it gingerly with the tips of his fingers. He places it on top once again. "That's what I'm trying to find out, you see."  
  
He blocks off the smallest room in the house and bans Sirius or anyone else from so much as touching the door. On most of the mornings that Remus works, Sirius sits by the door quietly, the paper spread on the hallway floor, reading and listening to Remus hum to himself, shuffling papers around. Just before lunch he gathers the paper up again and leaves before Remus opens the door to see him.  
  
Some mornings he catches himself humming along under his breath, and laughs.  
  
*  
  
Six weeks later, the morning after a full moon, Remus crawls, battered and torn, into Sirius's arms and sleeps once he is bandaged. In the bleary times when he wakes that day, he mumbles to Sirius.  
  
"I need to remember the taste of morning," he says with eyes closed, and Sirius smoothes his hair.  
  
"Tomorrow I need to get a lunar chart with you on it," Remus mutters later, tapping Sirius's arm. Sirius checks his bandages and leaves tea on the table by him. As he walks away, Remus mutters something else under his breath, in his sleep.  
  
When Sirius checks in on him in the late afternoon, Sirius thinks he hears Remus say "Thank you, love," and Sirius stares at him, curled under blankets and looking completely asleep. He turns and leaves quickly.  
  
In the evening Sirius checks Remus's bandages again and lays a hand on his forehead, then pulls the blankets back from his sprawled form. Remus rolls over, reaching out a hand to scrabble at and grab Sirius's wrist.  
  
"Stay," Remus says, eyes barely open and looking up at him. Sirius pulls his hand away, stands and watches for a moment, then stretches out on the other side of the bed and sleeps lightly.  
  
"Ask me tomorrow," Remus half says in the darkest hours of the morning, pressing gingerly against Sirius's side. Sirius breathes carefully.  
  
*  
  
Remus limps from his secret room and leans on a chair to stare at Sirius.  
  
"Didn't I say I needed a star chart with Canis Major on it?" he asks. Sirius pulls down mugs and loose leaf tea.  
  
"Not quite," Sirius replies. He can't find the strainer, and clanks through drawers unsuccessfully.  
  
"Well, I do." Remus limps back to his room, not quite shutting the door behind him. "Bring it to me when you find it, please," he calls. "The strainer's in with the glasses."  
  
Sirius would be offended that there was never a question whether he would or would not find the star chart, unbidden, except that it was Remus, and he left the door ajar.  
  
Sirius leaves tea hot on the table and goes searching.  
  
After lunch, he returns. His stomach is growling and he clutches a book in his hands, and Remus is sitting at the table picking at the bandage on his left arm and hand.  
  
"It's frustrating to work like this," he explains. Sirius lays the book on the table and, after adjusting the bandages, opens to a section that makes Remus smile as he pages through it. Remus stands and pulls the book with him. He is at the cusp between kitchen and hall when Sirius speaks.  
  
"What are you making?" Remus looks over his shoulder, a secret look on his face.  
  
"Something true," he replies, and turns away, takes a step.  
  
"You said to ask--"  
  
"Yes," he says. "Questions often don't get the answers you want, though."  
  
Sirius makes a sandwich and eats in silence after he hears the door click shut. He pages through reports and research into new spells until his eyes feel dry and he's no longer taking in the words. At that point, aggravated by work, he stalks to Remus's door and raps on it three times. It's only as Remus is opening it, a curious look on his face, that Sirius realizes he just doesn't touch the door, it's just a rule, and he's broken it.  
  
"I'm sorry," he blurts out.  
  
"Funny, you never apologized much back at school." Remus cocks his head to the side, and as Sirius absently peers into the room behind him, Remus steps into the hall and closes the door with a solid click.  
  
"People change," he says, then blusters on. "Why won't you give me a straight answer? You're like a sphinx, Remus, and I got enough of that for one lifetime already."  
  
"Are you angry, Padfoot?" Remus asks blithely. He has a serene expression on his face, but mixed with confusion.  
  
"No," Sirius says, exhaling. "Yes. I'm not sure. You won't tell me what you're doing in there, and there are enough secrets between us without keeping secrets in the house, and the war is getting worse every day, we're looking shabbier every day, and it gets harder to keep on every day." He takes a deep breath, sees Remus chewing on the inside of his lip thoughtfully, withdrawing inside himself the tiniest bit, which is enough and too much, and he continues. "And we share a bed nearly every night now, but we don't _sleep_ together, Remus, and I don't know, I just…"  
  
"Want me to go back to the other bedroom," Remus says, picking up where Sirius trailed off.  
  
"No!" he blurts out. "I just, I don't understand." Sirius is deflated. It's like there are rules in place about when to touch and when to speak, and Remus won't tell him how to play. And then Remus smiles, without it reaching his eyes.  
  
"I don't either," he says. Remus starts to lean forward, but Sirius steps away and walks to the window, facing it. "Sirius, do you really have to question it? It's us, it's Padfoot and Moony! You and me, and bugger whatever the norm may be. Do you need to give it a name and a reason?" Sirius turns his head a small degree, so he can see Remus in the edge of his vision, watch him as he steps closer. The early evening light streams through the window, picking out dust in the air and Sirius's profile in half silhouette. "It's just us."  
  
Sirius doesn't move when Remus puts a hand on his back, but he lets Remus take his hand and unclench it, and doesn't stop Remus from leaning against him for a moment. And then Remus breathes deeply and pulls away.  
  
Sirius expects Remus to retreat into his room again, so he stiffens and checks his expression, but Remus tugs him into the kitchen. He is pushed down into a chair and watches as Remus pulls out frozen shepherd's pies and starts them in the oven to brown, then pulls a chair close to Sirius. He picks up one of Sirius's hands and looks him in the eye.  
  
"There is a difference between the secrets outside this house and inside this house, and the ones inside? Will not ever be secrets for long." Remus smiles, and brushes through Sirius's hair with his fingers. "And you are my closest friend. You, and James and Peter, saved me in school. You--"  
  
"I know this speech, Moony," Sirius says, looking away.  
  
"Doesn't make it less true," he says, and leans back in his chair, still holding Sirius's hand.  
  
*  
  
Before dawn one morning, Sirius is woken by Remus perched on the edge of the bed, staring at him with a shoe in hand. Remus shakes his head and slips the shoe on.  
  
"What--" Sirius starts with a yawn.  
  
"I can't remember," Remus says, voice quiet in the dark of the room. "I'm trying."  
  
"What don't--" Sirius sits up, pushing the covers down his body. Outside of the covers the room is chilly, and he wraps his arms around his body.  
  
"I thought watching the sunrise might help, but then I thought watching you-- I don't know which to do." Remus furrows his brow and disappears at the foot of the bed. A moment later he stands up, pulling a shoe onto his other foot.  
  
"Will you answer today?" Sirius asks, Remus's scattered mood reminding him of the occasional curious book or box scattered around the flat, for use in whatever Remus is creating. Without him.  
  
"Not the answer you're looking for," Remus replies. Sirius slides out of bed, pulling a blanket with him. He wraps it around his shoulders and walks to Remus.  
  
"If you're going to watch the sunrise, I am too." Sirius yawns largely. "And then you can watch me too. I've solved your dilemma." He shuffles after Remus, who has a small smile on his face.  
  
The pre-dawn air is chill and wet. Sirius sits next to Remus on the stoop, cocooned in his blanket and leaning on Remus's shoulder. As the sun comes up slowly, Sirius fights to keep his eyes open. Remus's arm is heavy around him, and he breathes with the stroking of Remus's hand on his side.  
  
"It's not quite the same, but it'll do," Remus says, pulling Sirius up from the stoop. The sun is streaming through the trees; they are both strangely lit and Sirius stifles a yawn, tucking his chin under the blanket. He stretches out on the couch a little after seven, not rising until Remus has already tucked himself away in his room for hours.  
  
*  
  
Some weeks later, Remus leaves on some secret rendezvous at Dumbledore's request, for what he says will only be two days. Sirius kisses him goodbye, watches him disappear, turns and walks to the door of Remus's room. His fingers lay lightly splayed on the wood, and he grips the doorknob.  
  
He imagines what he might find. What sort of disarray the room might be in, the clues it would hold as to what Remus has been doing with his free time. He imagines the disappointment on Remus's face when Remus figures out that he peeked.  
  
Sirius lets go.  
  
Two days later, he rises, prepares coffee for himself, and waits for Remus. He reads the paper, spreads it across the entire kitchen. There are more articles on disappearances, and growing fear, and attacks by both sides. The fearful sections are on the cold stove and counter; the hopeful on the kitchen table, and he treads on the sections that fall outside of those categories. When he makes lunch for two, Sirius drops the bread on the crossword puzzle. He adds "Paracelsus" to 32 across and "Apparate" to 6 down.  
  
He ends up eating half of one sandwich, then sits on the floor of the front room in view of the window, clipping out articles that seem dodgy. After hours of this, he eats the rest of the sandwich and peruses a book of counter curses and protective jinxes. Outside grows slowly darker, and he pays less and less attention to his book. He flips the outside light on.  
  
"Come home," Sirius says quietly, begging the empty path to the front door. A cat stalks across the street, slipping into the shadows, and Sirius latches the door and lays down on the couch, glancing at the old clock on the mantle – half past two. He closes his eyes but doesn't sleep, laying there for ages. In the dark he imagines the worst, knowing by now what can happen in a war. As he sits up and rubs his eyes, thinking about making himself some warm milk, possibly with something a bit stronger stirred in, he hears a faint thud and a bump and a quiet "ow."  
  
"Remus?" he says, looking up. Remus is sprawled in front of the fireplace, and he tilts his head back to look at Sirius.  
  
"Sorry I'm late. There was a bit more... Well. You know. I was delayed," Remus says simply, picking himself up off the ground. Sirius crawls off of the couch, falling clumsily in the process. "Were you waiting up for me? You shouldn't, you need to sleep."  
  
"No. No, I was trying to sleep, but I couldn't upstairs so I came down for some warm milk and ended up just staying down here," he says, not quite lying. Remus smiles tiredly as Sirius meets him at the end of the coffee table. "How are you?"  
  
"Tired," Remus answers, putting his hand on Sirius's back. "But not hurt, Padfoot. Pomfrey took care of the few scratches I got." Sirius turns to face him, putting his hands lightly on each side of Remus's face. He pulls his hands down and slips them around Remus, laying his head on Remus's shoulder. Remus, surprised, takes a moment to wrap his arms around Sirius, stroking up and down the curve of his spine.  
  
They stand there until Remus can't keep his eyes open, which isn't very long at all, really, and he wonders if maybe Sirius has half fallen asleep. He pulls away enough that Sirius pulls away as well.  
  
"I was quite serious about bed. I'm asleep on my feet, here," Remus says. Sirius practically leaps into action, his arm still wrapped around Remus, and he leads Remus through the kitchen and up the stairs. He goes so far as to help him out of his clothes and into a nightshirt, and is on the verge of tucking Remus under the covers when Remus laughs.  
  
"I'm not an invalid, Sirius." He tugs at a lock of hair behind Sirius's ear, where it seems to be perpetually longer than it should be. Remus crawls under the covers on his own.  
  
"I know," Sirius says. After a moment, Remus lifts the edge of the blanket. Sirius hesitates, then slips under the covers.  
  
Sirius lays next to Remus, not touching him, but looking at him. He's trying to put together what he's thinking and feeling in just the right way, and Remus looks back, trying to keep his eyes open for a moment longer, waiting for Sirius to speak again. He reaches out and strokes Sirius's cheek lightly, and wearily drops his hand to let it rest against Sirius's chest. Sirius covers it with his own hand.  
  
"I want to do everything for you," he says, and he still feels like it didn't come out quite how he wanted it to, like he didn't say quite what he was feeling.  
  
Remus lets his eyes fall shut, exhausted, and pulls at Sirius enough so that he moves closer, and he falls asleep warm against Sirius. Sirius strokes Remus's hair lightly, feeling much more content than he thinks he should in this position. He ignores it and matches his breathing to Remus's, falling into dreams.  
  
***  
  
Sirius is content to continue in the way he and Remus are. Or, at least he tells himself this. He is content to share in sleep. He is satisfied with light kisses and the occasional fumble in the dark or after one of Those Days. Sirius isn't bothered by the fact that that seems to be it.  
  
One morning over breakfast, he is thinking about these things and watching Remus blink his way into consciousness over tea, and it occurs to him that it's _not_ just something he's telling himself. Not that it's not obvious, he thinks to himself, but so obvious and glaring in his face that sometimes it slips his mind. Just having Remus at all is a sort of wonder.  
  
Remus yawns, his face contorting into strange shapes, and he rubs a hand across his face sleepily. When he brings his hand down to the table again, Sirius snorts.  
  
"What?" Remus asks. There's a streak of marmalade across Remus's cheek, and Sirius waits a moment longer, huffing with laughter, before reaching up with a napkin and wiping it off. He drops the napkin on the table and looks at Remus.  
  
"So if I ask today, will you answer?"  
  
"Ask what?" Remus snorts sleepily and holds his tea up to his mouth, waiting and breathing in the steam.  
  
"About your secret project. About what it is," Sirius explains. Remus lowers the mug and smirks, more awake than before.  
  
"Oh, you know I'll answer. Any day, I'll answer, just not necessarily the answer you want." He takes a bite of his toast, chews it and swallows while Sirius narrows his eyes and gives him a look of amused frustration. "I've been thinking of making a list of different answers, just to entertain myself and see your reaction."  
  
"Always good to know I'm a source of amusement for you."  
  
"Endless. But I won't be making the list, seeing as I'm nearly done." His eyes nearly sparkle as he speaks, reminiscent of Dumbledore. Sirius fiddles with his spoon, trying not to be overexcited.  
  
"Really?" he says. "That's absolutely fascinating." Perhaps he toned it down too much, he thinks.  
  
"I thought you'd be interested," he says, and gets up from the table, putting his plate next to the sink and turning to lean against the counter. Sirius dips the spoon in the bowl of sugar and sucks on it thoughtfully. "Do that more often and I might hurry up." Sirius waggles his eyebrows; Remus turns to leave the room.  
  
"Wait," Sirius says. "I've been thinking."  
  
"Your brain could use the exercise," Remus quips, sitting down again. Sirius coats his spoon in another layer of sugar and taps it on the edge of the sugar bowl.  
  
"I've been thinking—" he pauses briefly, lets the spoon drop. "I love you."  
  
"I know that, Padfoot," Remus says, looking a little amused.  
  
"No," Sirius says, and stops, reveling in the moment a little. "I don't mean like that."  
  
"Pardon?" Remus isn't smiling now. Not upset, but not smiling. Sirius licks his lips.  
  
"I love you," he says again. "I've only just realized it this morning."  
  
"What?" Remus says slowly. Sirius feels like he can almost taste the words in his mouth, and he says them again.  
  
"I love you."  
  
"Stop," Remus says, shaking his head in disbelief. He pushes away from the table and gets up to leave the room again.  
  
"Wait," Sirius says. "I'm sorry," he calls after Remus, who has disappeared into the hallway.  
  
Back to his secret room, Sirius thinks, and he doesn't feel anything about it. He thinks he should feel something about that, about Remus retreating somewhere Sirius isn't welcome, but he doesn't, and he clears the table of breakfast plates and marmalade, and picks the spoon out of the sugar again and sucks on it as he takes a cup of tea into the front room.  
  
Love, he thinks, is an excellent word.  
  
***  
  
Three days later, Remus comes up behind Sirius on the couch and leans over his shoulder, reaching forward to take the papers from his hands and set them aside. Sirius tries to turn his head and look at Remus, but Remus faces him forward again and stands up.  
  
"Moony—" he says, and stops as Remus ties a cloth over his eyes.  
  
"Stand up," Remus whispers in his ear. Sirius stands and waits until Remus grabs him by the hands and slowly leads him around, telling him when to step over things on the floor. He knows the route that he's being led on, having walked it a hundred times before. But this time, he gets to go in. "We're almost there."  
  
After Remus steps away, Sirius stands with his hands dangling awkwardly at his sides. He can hear a moment of papers shuffling, then feels Remus's presence in front of him. In the middle of a deep breath, he's cut off by Remus's mouth pressing on his own, and closes his eyes under the blindfold. He opens them again mid-kiss when Remus tugs the cloth off and steps away.  
  
"Ask me," Remus insists. Sirius looks at him curiously, and after a moment of looking at the grin on Remus's face, it clicks.  
  
"What's your secret project, Moony?" he asks. Remus practically bounces with excitement, his hands flitting from his sides to the table to Sirius's shirt. He pulls Sirius to the table, standing close to him.  
  
"Something true," he whispers, and pushes a book in front of Sirius. The book looks stuffed with more than its pages can hold, and has a plain leather cover, with a picture of Remus and Sirius pasted on it. Glancing at Remus, Sirius opens it to the first page.  
  
"Remus," he says, trailing off. He runs the pad of his finger across the words on the page.  
  
"It's true." Remus reads the words out loud, tracing Sirius's hand with his finger. "I love you."  
  
"Why were you upset when _I_ said it, then?" Sirius blurts out.  
  
"I wanted to say it first." Remus leans forward and kisses him hard, and pulls back just enough to look into his eyes. "I've spent months making this book for you, and then you nearly go and make it all a moot point by realizing you love me."  
  
"You've spent all this time making this book?"  
  
"It's not just a book, and yes. See, I've charmed it so that wherever it is, so long as I have a certain quill, I can add to it. There are a few pages that I charmed to show a number of different pictures and letters and things from school each time you turn to the page," he says, turning through the book as he speaks, "so that it's something different."  
  
Sirius stares at the book, and Remus's hand turning pages. He waits a moment, just a moment, before turning and hooking his arm around Remus to pull him tight and kiss him so that he takes a step backward to catch himself.  
  
"I take it you like it?" Remus asks. Sirius laughs and kisses him again.


End file.
